It's Raining
by Sarcastic Realist
Summary: Set after Humpty Dumpty. HouseCuddy pairing. What happened after the screen went black at the end of the episode? COMPLETE, chapter eleven. Thanks for your reviews!
1. I

**_A/N: Set after 'Humpty Dumpty.' I do not own the characters. I don't really care who House ends up with, either Cuddy or Cameron will do, but in that episode, I thought House and Cuddy had really good chemistry. _**

**_Please review, it will make my day. If you don't like it, I will delete the story. The last story I posted did not get good reviews, so my self-esteem is kinda low. Thanks._**

**_Oh, and one more thing. Stacy will be OOC because I find it really hard to write her. I'm very sorry for that.  
_**  
**It's Raining**

"I do not have a _thing _for Cuddy!"

Wilson cocked an eyebrow at him, the gesture screaming skepticism. "Fine. Then give me one good reason why I should believe you." He tossed his friend a smug glance and waited patiently, tapping his foot and settling comfortably in one of the chairs in the diagnostician's office.

House's icy gaze shot daggers at him. "Here's a thought," he mocked, twirling his cane between his fingers, "_maybe _because-" he gasped dramatically, "-oh no, it couldn't be!"

Wilson suppressed a sigh and settled on rolling his eyes. "Oh, shut it and tell me. It's not going to kill you if you admit you like her, you know." As soon as the words left his mouth, he forced it shut, bracing himself for a snappy comeback.

House fell over.

"House?" Wilson flew out of the chair and he knelt down on one knee, holding his hand out to aid his friend.

House stared up at him blankly. "No, I _won't _marry you! What are you, nuts?"

"What _are _you doing?" Wilson snapped, standing back up and ignoring the pain on the other doctor's face. He sat back in the chair. "And look who's calling _who _nuts, pot."

"Hey! I resent that," House defended as he struggled to his feet.

Wilson rolled his eyes again. "Oh, I'm sorry." He paused; laughing inwardly at the spark of satisfaction in House's ice-blue eyes. "You're not nuts, just incredibly stupid sometimes," he finished.

"I was making a point."

"You don't _make _points." Wilson shot back.

"As I was saying," House twirled his cane again, almost hitting Wilson in the face, "before you interrupted me in such a _rude _manner…"

Wilson rolled his eyes for the third time.

"Maybe because it's true," he finally concluded, and turned to face the floor-to-ceiling window. Both men were quiet for a moment, listening to the tiny sound of raindrops hitting the glass. "It's raining," House observed, staring outside with a stoic expression on his rugged features.

Wilson's head tilted to one side. Wait a minute. House was not one to clearly state the obvious unless it involved something medical. And this wasn't medical.

---------

Cuddy looked absently thoughtful. "Why _does _everyone think we had sex?" she shot a wary glance at Stacy. "Cameron grilled me about him earlier."

"Tell you what," Stacy offered, "I'll hire a cameraman to follow you two around all day long, and when he's done, you watch the parts where you 'interact' with each other. You'll have your answer then." She gave a half-smile.

"What _are _you _talking _about?" Cuddy demanded irritably.

"Oh, give me a break, Lisa," Stacy scoffed in a very un-Stacy-like fashion. "You two act like an old married couple, for God's sake."

Cuddy gaped at her incredulously. "That is the most incredibly _absurd _thing I have ever heard!"

"Incredibly absurd, yet incredibly accurate," Stacy corrected smoothly, biting back a laugh. Cuddy's eyes looked about to pop out of her head.

"Are you _serious_?"

"Well, except for the fact that most normal married women don't do everything in their power _not _to look at their husbands. But you don't blush, though, props for that," Stacy continued, seemingly oblivious to her friend's utter shock.

"I do _not_," Cuddy defended herself. "This is ridiculous. I'm going home."

"Have a good night, Lisa," Stacy called over her shoulder as she retreated down the hall.

_Yeah right. Goodnight my ass._

---------

"Anything bothering you, House?" Wilson asked innocently as he downed the rest of his beer.

"You know your life is pathetic when you can relate to a song called 'Alcohol,'" House mused sarcastically to himself.

Wilson choked on his beer. "Since when do you care?"

"I don't," House slurred, dropping back on the couch opposite the oncologist.

"Uh, well…" Wilson made a confused face, "alright then."

"Mhmm…" House closed his eyes and his body went still.

Wilson groaned. "House?"

There was no reply.

"House?"

House didn't stir.

"Damn you," Wilson muttered.

---------

"A married couple," Cuddy sneered to herself, "yeah, that's not _totally _out there at _all_." She yawned unceremoniously and crawled into bed, overcome with exhaustion.

---------

House yawned widely and stretched out from his cramped position on the couch. Bad idea. His foot connected with something solid.

"OW!" Wilson hollered, beginning a splitting headache for both of them.

House squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his hands over his ears. He let out a whimper, trying to shut out the noise and light. "Don't please, I'm sensitive."

"No, you're stupid. Ya shouldn't have had so much to drink last night," Wilson snapped. "Cuddy'll have your _ass _for that." He sat up gingerly and reached for the bottle of water he had grabbed the night before.

"What time is it?" House asked, not making any move to get up.

Wilson glanced at his watch. "Oh, lord, we're an hour late already," he grimaced.

As if on cue, the phone rang shrilly, drawing yelps of pain from both men.

"House's house, Wilson speaking," Wilson mumbled into the phone, snatching it up after the first thing to avoid the grating ringing sound again.

"You have half an hour to get your asses in here before I fire you" were Cuddy's only words before slamming the phone down in his ear.

Wilson swore under his breath and turned to relay the information to House. "Cuddy says good morning," he informed mock-cheerfully.

The diagnostician buried his face in a pillow, and finally came up for air. "Did we get fired?"

"We will be if we're not at the hospital in thirty minutes" was Wilson's consenting response.

"_Fabulous_," House muttered, and proceeded to pass out once more.

"Here we go again."

_**A/N: There will be one more chapter if you're remotely interested in reading it. If not, this is the end. Hope you enjoyed. **_


	2. II

**_A/N: Wow. I was so totally shocked at the awesome response I got to the first chapter. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy. Hehehe. Anyways, you apparently liked it, so I've decided to reward you with another chapter. And, since you sent me such beautiful reviews and made me jump up and down with happy-ness (lol), there's news. This is not the end. _**

**_Thank you muchly for taking the time to read this AND review. That means a LOT to me. Please keep doing so._  
**

**It's Raining**

"No," House whined. "You can't make me!"

"I can and I am." Stacy reached for the fought-over object again.

House shook his head vehemently and immediately regretted it, for he swayed back and forth dizzily. His stomach heaved.

It must have showed; Stacy made a face.

House took the opportunity to cover his eyes protectively with his hand in a childish gesture. "Uh-uh."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Just give her the damn sunglasses, House," Cuddy snapped in irritation.

Stacy stifled a smirk. "You look like a blind man," she told the blue-eyed shuddering man.

"Do you think I _care_?"

Stacy rolled her eyes. "Oh, leave him be. He'd never give them over willingly."

Cuddy raised an eyebrow. "Sunglasses or no clinic?"

House fairly threw them at her.

"See?" Cuddy tossed her friend a triumphant smile. "Clinic. Now." She ordered.

"Whyyy?" House whined again.

"For being late. Now go before I kick your sorry ass all the way there."

"Hahaha…" House chuckled and eyed her. "I'd like to see _that _happen." He hunched his shoulders and limped resignedly in the direction of the clinic when she glared at him. "Yes, mother."

Cuddy shut her eyes in frustration. Not two seconds later, they flew open again at the sound of yet _another_ voice she didn't want to hear. Come to think of it, there weren't many voices she _did _want to hear at that moment. "What do _you _want?"

"Do you have any idea _why _House got so drunk last night?" Wilson challenged instantaneously.

Cuddy didn't answer right away, feeling a nervous feeling creep up as she realized she wasn't sure she actually wanted to know.

Wilson nodded in Stacy's direction and threw her an 'it's obvious' expression. "She knows. Ask her."

"_Why_?" Cuddy exploded. "Why does everyone ask her?"

Stacy rolled her eyes.

"Because she's the all-knowing goddess of the Universe," House's voice hissed directly into her ear, making her jump. The sarcasm was dripping from his tone.

"_You _are supposed to be at the clinic!" she snapped, covering her surprise.

"I'm sorry," House apologized, sounding anything but. "But I need Wilson." He stared pointedly at the oncologist and Wilson hurriedly excused himself, following his friend down the hall.

"No, by all means, go on," House jeered derisively. "Tell her I'm madly in love with her while you're at it, why don't you?" he added, ignoring the nurses in the clinic who were giving him odd glances. "Remind me never to tell you any secrets again," he pleaded in something akin to a child's voice when they would beg for something.

He realized his mistake a split second too late.

Wilson stopped dead in the middle of the clinic waiting room. "You didn't tell me any secrets…" he began in a strange tone.

"You're right, I didn't." House said quickly, and ducked his head to grab a patient chart from the receptionist's desk. "Haha, fooled you."

"I think you're lying." Wilson stated, then corrected himself. "I _know _you're lying."

"And _I _think _you're _dreaming," House shot back.

"This conversation isn't over," Wilson chided before going to start with a patient. He never did remember that he didn't actually have to _do _clinic and that House didn't actually _need _his help.

---------

"No more clinic hours this week," House sang loudly and off-key to the tune of 'happy birthday' as he and Wilson waited in line at the cafeteria. "No more clinic hours this week! No more clinic hours this weeeeeeeeeeek! No more clinic hours this week!" He ignored the annoyed glanced people threw his way and droned on happily.

"Greg, please." Wilson's lips twisted into a wince. He grabbed a tray and paid for his food- and House's- and sat down at a table.

"What, you don't like my singing? I'm crushed." House chewed his food and made a face.

Wilson exhaled a sigh and followed suit.

---------

"Hey, why don't we-"

"No."

"But they-"

"No."

"Lisa, I'm just-"

"I _said _no!"

The two women were also in the cafeteria but wisely choosing not to eat the food.

"Fine." Stacy rolled her eyes and sat down at a table _far _away from the men. "You really do like him, don't you?"

Cuddy mulled this over for a long moment. "I'm acting like a teenager with a crush," she acquiesced, "but no, I don't."

Stacy tipped her head to the side and regarded her friend thoughtfully, dark eyes compassionate and understanding. "Can I tell you something honestly?"

Cuddy pursed her lips. "Sure, I guess."

"I think you do," Stacy said gently, "and you either don't know it yet or refuse to acknowledge it completely."

"What are you, a lawyer or a psychiatrist?"

"A friend."

"Besides," Cuddy continued out of nowhere, "even if I did like him- which I _don't_, by the way- there would be no point anyway. He's a cynical, self-absorbed jerk, and he's too caught up in his own world to give a damn about anyone else's."

---------

_**A/N: More coming soon, if you want it. Coughreviewscough.Don't make me beg :) **_


	3. III

_**A/N: Okay, two things. Number one- sorry for the wait for an update (I was grounded; it sucked you-know-what), and number two- I personally think this chapter sends 'sucky' to the moon. And I mean TERRIBLE. So, please review anyway, and I will update as soon as I can. Your fantastically AMAZING reviews are also blowing me to the moon (possibly Jupiter). Wow. I honestly cannot believe how much you like it. Anyway, enough of my ranting and raving; thank you muchly for the reviews and please keep them coming. They keep me writing. **_

_**Huggles, Shay.**_

House froze with his drink halfway to his mouth.

"What?"

House didn't move a muscle, save for his eyes. They scanned the cafeteria quickly. Bingo. Cuddy and Stacy. The words were definitely from Cuddy. He got an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was a bit unnerving, actually. "Wilson." He paused, "am I a cynical, self-absorbed jerk who's too caught up in his own world to give a damn about any one else's?"

Wilson spat out his drink. "_What_?" Trying to compose himself, he wiped his mouth and the table with a napkin, then repeated himself. "What?"

"You heard me," House snapped, taking a large gulp of his coke

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Wilson asked incredulously.

"No."

"Are you _high_?"

"No!" Exasperation crept into House's tone.

"Then why the hell are you asking me such a stupid question? Since when do you care what other people think of you? And speaking of that," Wilson continued, fully in his element now, "that's twice in twenty four hours I've said that, for your information." He fell silent, ending his emphatic tirade.

House frowned at him. "Never mind," he shook his head with an odd tone in his voice. "Forget I asked." He stood up and dumped the rest of his food in the trash, then headed for the door. He was halfway down the hall to his office before his friend came after him.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

House nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Now leave me alone."

Wilson sighed again. "Fine, I'll bite. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I don't believe you. You're acting weird."

"Weird? That's an odd word coming from an oncologist," House snickered.

"Oh, shut it. Never mind, then, if you're going to dodge the subject every time I bring it up."

"_There _you go!" House exclaimed, as if it was completely his idea.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I give up," he muttered, and turned in the other direction.

It was unbelievably quiet; barely audible, and yet he heard it.

"Cuddy."

He turned. "What?"

"It was Cuddy," the diagnostician repeated, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"What was Cuddy?" Wilson asked, trying to understand his friend.

"What I asked you."

"Oh." Wilson was shocked speechless. "Cuddy?"

"Cuddy." The blue-eyed man confirmed.

Wilson let out a low whistle. "Uh, House, what makes this time different from any other time? She kicks your ass five times a day."

"I don't know."

Something was very wrong.

Wilson stared at his friend. House serious was the rarest thing other than a three dollar coin- wait a second. There was no such thing. _Point made, _he thought wryly. _The man's so out of character it's not even funny. _"Alright, here we go." He steered House into his office and the two men sat down. "Spill. Now." It didn't matter that he sounded like a fourteen-year-old teenager. He wanted to know everything going on in House's head.

"I..."

Wilson waited patiently.

"Think..."

"Yes?"

"I..."

"House."

"Jeez."

"Say something, for the love."

"Um..."

Wilson's pager buzzing at his hip interrupted House, and the blue-eyed man cheered. "Saved by the pager! Whee!" He pumped his fist in the air. "Go, shoo. You have patients waiting."

Wilson glared at him. "We're not finished."

"I should hope not," House sneered. His hands came up to clutch at his chest. "Help me, I'm dying," he whined in a high-pitched, pitiful voice.

Wilson sighed and headed for the door. "I'm your ride home, House, don't think I'll let it go."

"Yes Mom." House paused. "Oh, no, wait. That's Cuddy. No, wait. That's Cameron. Cuddy's the wicked witch of the west. Or maybe..." he twirled his cane in circles in the air as he continued muttering to himself.

Wilson shook his head without a word and stepped outside.

"He _so _likes her."

"DO NOT!"

-------


	4. IV

_**A/N: Gah, that sucked. Hope this is better. Yes, the House/Cuddy interaction IS HERE. Lol. And I'm sorry, there will be no hot sex because a) I wouldn't be able to write it; it would totally bomb, and b) It wouldn't fit into my story very well, IMO. Thanks for the reviews. Hugs for everyone; I love y'all to pieces. Mwah. **_

"I do _not _like her!" House grumbled to himself as he twirled his cane again later that afternoon. He had not seen Wilson since the earlier incident, and he had managed to hide from Cuddy during that time, as well. For that he was happy. "Plus," he mused, "I got out of more clinic duty." He'd have to thank Foreman for that. "On second thought... no."

_"He _so _likes her." _

Ah, yes. The patented 'Wilson' look, so perfectly accompanied by his confident, cocky-sounding statement. Cocky, that is, to Gregory House. Obviously not to the oncologist himself, of course; Wilson thought he was always right. And, if House would admit it, he often was. But not quite always. This time he was wrong.

-------

Dr. Lisa Cuddy was not one usually prone to paranoia, but as she worked, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Someone was watching at her. Shaking her head at her antics, she resumed efficiently dealing with her patient and grabbed her clipboard, checking it as she pushed the door open with her foot.

"Oomph." She ran straight into a tall, solid figure. Her head came up, and she drew in a sharp breath, then composed herself. "What the _hell _were you doing?"

House's eyes narrowed in mock confusion. "Is that a trick question?"

Cuddy glared at him. "Oh, come off it. What were you doing?" she repeated.

He pulled an innocent face. "Staring at your ass."

"House."

"No, really!" he insisted, pouting.

She glared at him again. "My office, now."

Miraculously, he followed her like an obedient puppy, limping behind her without a word. That is, until-

"It looks even better when you're walking" and he prodded her with his cane.

"Oh, shut it." Try as she might, she couldn't smother the grin that threatened to spread across her face. "You're such a moron."

"I'm hurt."

She smirked. "Right. And keep your cane to yourself."

"It doesn't turn you on?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "I'm not Alison Cameron, in case you haven't noticed."

"Oh, believe me, I've noticed," House smirked.

She waited until they reached her office to turn around and confront him. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing."

"Ugh, why I even bother…" Cuddy sat at her desk and started on her paperwork. "Why are you still standing there?"

"You said you wanted to talk to me…" House gave her an odd look. "Or, at least, that's what you _said_, what you _want _might be something completely opposite…" he trailed off in a conspiratory whisper.

Cuddy squeezed her eyes shut. "God, you're irritating. I can't remember, okay? Now go to the clinic where you're supposed to be and I'll page you when it comes back." Angrily, she berated herself for the fact that she actually couldn't for the life of her.

"Awww, clinic?" House whined.

She opened her eyes and suddenly he was right in front of her desk, leaning forward until his face was a mere two centimetres from her own. "Shall I help you remember?" He asked, voice dropping low.

Her eyes fluttered closed automatically, feeling his breath on her lips. "Yes." A grimace appeared on her lips. "I mean, no." She sighed and opened her eyes a crack. "Go do clinic, House."

"Yes, ma'am." He threw her an evil grin as he limped out, knowing full well the effect he had on her and already planning to use it to his advantage.

-------

"House and Cuddy, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…"

House glowered fiercely at his friend. "Keep going and _you'll _need a doctor."

That was enough to stop Wilson from continuing the song, but not enough to keep the huge grin off his face. "You're as stubborn as they come, Greg."

"Good. Let's go get supper. I'm hungry."

Wilson couldn't stop himself. "For what?" he asked teasingly.

"You're two seconds away from having my cane up your ass," House warned, still glowering.

Wilson pressed his lips together in a tight line and headed for the door, not willing to bear the brunt of the diagnostician's anger. "Alright, I get it." Laughter threatened to spill over if he wasn't careful. "But when you realized you've fallen madly in love with her, don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't," House replied quickly. And without thinking. "Fall in love with her, that is."

Wilson nodded seriously. "Right."

House scowled. "Supper. Now."

-------


	5. V

_**A/N: Hehehe, another chapter. My reviews have been lacking a little; are you guys still with me in here? Helloooo?**_

House woke up in a cold sweat, breathing hard. He squeezed his eyes shut against the throbbing pain in his leg and felt for a couple of pills on the table beside his bed, swallowing them dry. He opened his eyes and glanced at the clock. 3:17 a.m.

A dream had awakened him… a hot, steamy, R-rated dream…

He shuddered and closed his eyes again.

A hot, steamy, R-rated dream… about Cuddy.

His eyes flew open and he sat up in the blink of an eye. "Shit!"

* * *

"Well now, somebody had a long night last night," Wilson drawled, a gleam in his eye. "Did you have a visitor after I left? Or should I ask if Cuddy will be coming into work today?" 

"Aww, shut it," House muttered. "Yes, it was a long night, like you wouldn't believe."

Wilson tilted his head to one side. "Spill."

"Go to hell." House shot back and limped to his office, the oncologist trailing behind. "I don't give a damn if Cuddy-" he stopped abruptly, in speech and in his tracks, causing Wilson to bump into him.

"House, what-"

House jerked his eyes from what had caught his attention in the first place. "Sorry."

Cuddy's gaze met his for a split second and then pulled away. House continued on, cursing under his breath and ignoring Wilson, who was grinning excitedly and chattering on about how he was so right.

"Busted," Wilson laughed and fell into a chair. "House, you are screwed."

House didn't reply.

"House."

House twirled his cane. "Apartment." He looked up and caught Wilson rolling his eyes. "Right. That's not what you meant."

"Admit it. You like her."

"Jeez, why won't you people leave it alone? I don't like her. I don't like anybody. This is me, remember?" House flipped his cane to point it at himself and pulled a face. "Grumpy old bastard who doesn't give a flying rat's ass about anyone, much less his boss…?"

"You like me," Wilson pointed out.

House glared. "Quit raining on my parade. I'm trying to make a point."

Wilson laughed and stood up. "You're not doing very well so far. I'll come back later when you've figured it out."

"Figured _what _out?" House flipped his cane again and slammed it against the floor, but Wilson was already halfway down the hall, still laughing.

With a curse, he swallowed a Vicodin and sighed. This was going to be worse than he thought.

* * *

"Shall I buy you lunch?"

"What do you want?"

"Who says I want anything?"

"House."

House smiled angelically at the cafeteria lady in response. "My dear Wilson, we're keeping the people in line waiting, so if you wouldn't mind saving us the time and just agreeing to my offer of warmth and kindness, we could move on. Pizza?"

"Fine." Wilson nodded curtly at the cafeteria lady and slid his tray over to grab it, following the older doctor to a table in the corner, far away from the other parts of civilization. _Figures. _"Always the anti-social, aren't you?" he continued, this time out loud.

"Why, Dr. Wilson, I'm surprised at you. Whatever is the matter?" House threw him the same smile he had given to the cafeteria lady only seconds before.

Wilson sighed and sat down. "Whatever," he said resignedly, and after hesitating, nibbled at his pizza, which of course didn't really look like pizza at all.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

A not so quiet "shhhhht!" was the reply Wilson got. He leaned against the doorframe as a curious expression creased his features.

Finally House pulled his head out of the vent in the wall and carefully placed the cover back on, grinning smugly. "I was eavesdropping."

Wilson's eyebrows shot up. "Eavesdropping. Where exactly does that air vent lead, and by the way, you looked idiotic."

"And I care why…?"

Wilson sighed. "Explain, House."

House echoed his sigh, albeit a fair bit more dramatically. "I didn't hear anything. Don't get your panties in a knot. What is it?"

Wilson gave him a blank stare.

"Never mind," House muttered, and stood up with the aid of his cane, staring out the window. "On the bright side…" Suddenly he spun around, excitement coming through in his tone.

"What?" Wilson eyed him warily.

"We get to go home soon!"


	6. VI

_**A/N: Ahh, c'mon you guys- you want the story and I want reviews. I'm supplying my end…**_

What a long day.

A long, _bad _day.

A long, really _shitty _bad day.

A l- well, you get the point.

House stamped the foot of his uninjured leg on the floor and repeatedly smacked his cane on the hard surface for emphasis, all the while glaring at the clock, waiting impatiently for the minute hand to finish its last round before he could leave. "Whatever," he finally muttered under his breath. He stood up and hobbled to the door, flicking the light switch and closing the door.

He stopped at Wilson's office on the way out. "Coming with me to the bar?"

Chocolate brown eyes flickered up briefly before returning to the desk, and their owner shook his head. "Not tonight, House."

"Why not?" House persisted.

Wilson glanced up again, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead. "Because."

"Oh." House's eyes widened mockingly. "_Because_. That explains everything. Why didn't I think of that? Wow."

At Wilson's look of barely concealed exasperation, he pulled a face. "Alright, fine. Make me go by myself." House's lower lip jutted out, creating the face of a pouting child- which wasn't all that surprising.

"Julie's making me go to some fancy dinner," his friend finally supplied, quietly. "I wish I could go, but I can't. Sorry."

The tone in Wilson's voice got through to the diagnostician, and he simply nodded in reluctant acceptance. "Kay. Have fun," the smirk was back, and House limped out, throwing a grin over his shoulder.

* * *

"So, what'll it be, sir?"

House snorted derisively at the bartender's use of 'sir'. "I don't go by sir."

The bartender rolled his eyes, and House, relenting, rattled off the drink name.

* * *

One hour and five drinks later…

House was pleasantly buzzed. Well no, not quite pleasantly. Pleasant would have been so drunk he wouldn't have been able to stand, but then where would he be, so buzzed would have to do for now. Wilson couldn't come to get him today. Damn. He hated paying for those little yellow cars with the signs… what were they called? Oh, right, ta…

"Taxis!" he sputtered triumphantly, ignoring the odd looks he received from surrounding drunks.

"You want me to call a taxi, buddy?" the bartender leaned over the counter and asked slowly.

"Don't insult me," House scowled at him. "I don't need a damn taxi. Who needs taxis?"

The bartender sighed. "Whatever."

"And don't call me buddy, moron."

Another hour went by, and- he couldn't help himself- three drinks later, House spotted a figure through blurry eyes. He stumbled across the crowded, smelly bar and hauled himself onto a stool beside it.

"Don't you have to work tomorrow?" he slurred dramatically.

"Don't you?" The figure shot back, tilting its head to one side and regarding him, also through alcohol-impaired vision.

He hummed an affirmative. "But I'm not Dr. Cuddy," he countered. "So I'm not important."

"I wish I wasn't," Cuddy muttered.

"Important? Why on earth not?" House queried, adopting the tone of an overly concerned grandmother, to which the Dean of Medicine rolled her eyes.

"Life would be easier. And don't bother saying anything, it's not like you would know." Cuddy took a large gulp of beer.

"Fine, then."

"Where's Wilson?"

"Some fancy dinner thing with his wife; boring stuff." House waved his hand offhandedly.

"Oh."

As the evening got later, House felt his eyelids drooping. "Now I need a taxi," he gleefully informed the bartender. "You people have terrible timing." He struggled to his feet and was staggering out the door when he turned his head to find Cuddy behind him. "What do you want?" He flopped down on a wooden bench near the sidewalk and licked his dry lips.

"Oh, come on. You expect me to want to stay in there all by myself after your wonderful company rid itself from my presence? Not a chance." She plunked down beside him and closed her eyes. House watched her long, dark eyelashes flutter against her complexion, and blurredly wondered why he had never truly recognized her beauty.

Instead of commenting, he leaned his head back, and, mimicking her expression, closed his eyes.

The sound of the taxi pulling up jolted him up, eyes flying open. He heaved himself to his feet and watched her do the same. She stood not even a foot away, staring at him with sparkling brown eyes. "You coming?"

Cuddy took a step and stumbled, lurching forward into his arms; chest to chest, forehead to forehead…

Lips to lips.

Neither one of them was aware of the taxi driver climbing out and opening the door, then shoving them in the backseat.


	7. VII

_**A/N: I'm losing my reviewers. What's wrong?  
**_

Greg House was not alone in his bed.

This particular fact hit the hungover diagnostician instantly as he roused from a deep slumber… that and he had one _helluva_ headache. Something was snuggled up against his chest. Something long. And warm.

And it was _breathing._

Blue eyes flew open.

Soft, baby smooth skin, the gentle curve of a neck, and a full head of dark, curly hair could only belong to one person…

_Wilson._

WILSON? No, not Wilson, you idiot. Wilson wasn't even _with _you last night. Wilson had a- never mind.

_It's all Wilson's fault. He should have invited me to the damn dinner party._

Oh.

_People who think the four most dreaded words in the English language are 'we need to talk' are sorely mistaken, _House thought with a grimace. _Shit, my head hurts. And my leg. Dammit. _Unfortunately for him, his arms weren't able to reach the bottle of Vicodin beside his bed. His left arm was pinned underneath the _thing _that was so wonderfully hogging the covers, and his right… well, let's just say he didn't need his painkillers _that _much.

House blinked against the pounding in his head, thinking. _What an interesting predicament._

Boy, you really are hungover.

The thing stirred, and he froze, moving only his eyes to meet the wide open brown ones of none other than Lisa Cuddy. She stared at him without speaking before rapidly rolling away from him, freeing his half-asleep arm, and groaning. "Oh, god." Her face disappeared into a pillow.

House yawned sleepily. "Mind-blowing sex, huh? Amen." He smirked.

"Oh _god_" was her muffled reply.

"Since you're my boss," he continued, ignoring her, "can I miss work today?"

"Oh GOD."

* * *

House wished his headache to hell for the seventh time that morning and forced himself to concentrate once more. It was barely subsiding, and he was snipping at the ducklings when Cuddy stormed in.

"House. You, me, my office. Now."

Foreman, Cameron, and Chase all frowned when House just scowled and followed their boss out the door, where they disappeared around the corner.

"That was weird," Chase observed at last, when he thought it was safe.

Cameron shrugged. "I don't see why."

Foreman levelled a gaze at the Australian, waiting for an explanation.

"It was the perfect opportunity," Chase began, and stopped when he spotted the confused expressions on his coworkers' faces. "He didn't make a snide comment like he usually does," he rephrased, putting it as delicately as he could.

Cameron shrugged again. "What do you care? You never pay attention to his habits," she replied.

"And you do?" The intensivist shot back.

"Guys."

Two pairs of blue eyes snapped to Foreman. "Maybe he's just having an off day," he suggested.

Chase smirked. "House? Yeah, right."

"Foreman might be right," Cameron hesitated. "He was obviously hungover."

There you go, guys. Now you're getting somewhere. Come on, you can do it…

Chase's eyes narrowed. "Cuddy didn't look that great, either, come to think of it."

Foreman raised an eyebrow. "That's not jumping to conclusions at all," he said sarcastically.

Cameron rolled her eyes. "Do we not have anything better to do than gossip?"

"No?" Chase offered helpfully, and she glared at him.

As if on cue, pagers started buzzing, and the ducklings rushed to check on their newest patient.

* * *

"Shit," Cuddy hissed through her teeth, spotting a doctor in her office, waiting patiently. She darted quickly past the window, praying fervently he hadn't seen her and House, and sighed disgustedly as he purposely slowed down with a smirk. Making a quick decision (she knew she'd declare it stupid later, if not right then), she grabbed his free arm and yanked him into a nearby supply closet, locking the door behind them. A flick of her wrist and the light was on, faint, illuminating the five o'clock shadow on House's jaw.

Blue eyes danced in silent amusement. "If you really wanted-"

"Don't. Even. Start."

His mouth snapped closed, expression morphing into one of slight astonishment. A single eyebrow shot up, no doubt wondering what the hell was wrong with Lisa Cuddy this time.

"Last night- do you hear me, House?" Cuddy whispered fiercely, as though not to attract attention to themselves, even through the supply closet walls. "Last night was- will never happen again, and I want you to swear that you will never, ever mention it to anybody." She glowered at him. "Nobody. And if you so much as _look _at me…" Her dark eyes virtually bore a hole through him, forcing him to meet her gaze, "I will fire you."

_**A/N: Yup, so... review. I'm not even close to being done yet. **_


	8. VIII

_**Author's note: Meanwhile, back to Wilson… haven't seen him in a while, huh?**_

"She threatened to _fire_ you?"

"I still can't believe we're even having this conversation."

"She threatened to _fire_ you?"

"She's not gonna do it, you know that."

"She threatened to _fire_ you!"

House twirled his cane and sighed. "For god's sakes, Wilson, we've been over this! Get with the program already!" The young oncologist's voice was steadily rising in pitch, and House was still in shock over the fact that he had actually told his friend what had happened. Not even with Stacy had he been so blunt.

"She's coming."

House dove into the closet and stifled a cry at the sharp pain in his leg just as the door to Wilson's office opened and Cuddy walked in, the heels of her shoes making a clicking sound on the floor. "Where's House?"

"Hiding. You threatened to _fire _him?" Wilson couldn't help but ask one last time, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his best friend had slept with their boss.

"Where is he?"

"I'm not telling."

"James…" Cuddy warned, glaring at him.

"You know," Wilson continued, ignoring her, "that believe it or not, he actually doesn't _want _to lose his job? You really didn't give him a choice, Cuddy. He can't hide from you forever. It's impossible, considering you practically stalk the man to get him to do clinic duty. He-"

Wilson turned his head involuntarily to the closet at the sound of a loud crack, followed closely by a resounding "OW! Shit! Wilson, why the hell do you have high heels in here!"

Wilson winced.

Cuddy calmly stalked to the door and Wilson braced himself for a full out war.

"I'm not here," House muttered quietly after Cuddy opened the door, unceremoniously sprawled onto the floor with a single, bright pink high heel beside him on the floor- with the heel half off. He curled up into an imitation of the fetal position and squeezed his eyes shut. "Go away."

Wilson opened one eye.

Cuddy threw a glance at him over her shoulder. "Dr. Wilson?"

He nodded emphatically and shot out the door without a word, too terrified to argue with the lady in heels. It didn't take a genius to figure out that nobody challenged Lisa Cuddy…

Excluding House.

"You can come out now, House," she informed him, still calm.

House opened one eye. "No, I can't. You'll kill me."

"House." Her tone left no room for argument, and he finally complied… with a pout. He hurled the offending shoe back into the closet and sighed heavily. "How do you do it, Greg?"

"Do what," he asked wearily, flinching.

Cuddy stepped closer until they were nearly nose-to-nose. "Get out of my head."

House barked out a laugh. "Are you kidding?"

"What _is _it with you?" Cuddy snapped. "Ever since…" she waved her hand dismissively to evade actually voicing 'the _event_', "I think about you _all the damn time._ I think about you when I work, when I eat, when I go to bed, when I wake up, when I'm in the shower! Not in a good kind of way, I'm distracted, but like an I-can't-remember-if-I-washed-my-hair kind of way, so I wash my hair twice!"

"I'm flattered," House smirked dryly, "so what do you want me to do?"

Cuddy sighed, "Dammit, House!" She stamped her foot on the floor in frustration. "I don't even _like _you, for god's sake!"

"I know, I'm irresistible."

Cuddy shook her head, realization eventually dawning. "Incredible."

"That too."

Idea after idea; plan after plan; phrase after phrase assaulted her mind, and suddenly the pieces simply fell into place. Calm descended upon her, relaxing and soothing, and she turned and left.

He didn't try to go after her.

_**A/N: Umm, I sort of borrowed a line from 'Two Weeks Notice'- the washing the hair twice thing. I just thought it fit in there really well. The movie, starring Sandra Bullock and Hugh Grant is amazing, and NOT MINE. Keep reviewing please!  
**_


	9. IX

**_A/N: _ _I don't actually have a real plan for the story; it's sort of just writing itself, and I insert my ideas into the plot as they come. I'm quite pleased that y'all are sticking with me- I know I'm not the fastest updater, and some chapters really suck. Long story short; thanks for your reviews, and I welcome comments._**

"Lisa, you do realize what a ridiculous and highly unusual request this is. I need not remind you that you are the Dean of Medicine, correct?"

Cuddy quelled her irritation, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Yes, I am aware of that fact, Doctor, and it is not my intention to make a habit of it." She crossed her legs and sighed. "It's only for two weeks."

"Fine," the older doctor granted reluctantly, "you have my consent, Dr. Cuddy. I expect you back here in exactly fourteen days, no later. It is your job, however, to make sure everything needed is covered, if necessary; do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly. Thank you again, Doctor."

* * *

Cuddy hummed quietly under her breath while she packed clothing into her suitcase. Books, makeup, travel brochures, and more were scattered haphazardly around her bedroom, music playing in the background. She stooped and frowned, thinking she heard the front door open, but when she paused the c.d., she heard nothing but silence. And so she continued, arguing to herself what she should take and not take along with her.

"What are you doing?"

"Packing. Don't you ever knock?" She answered without turning around.

"No. Where are you going?"

"California."

"Why?"

"Because I need a vacation."

"No you don't."

"And how would you know, Greg?" Cuddy exploded, spinning around and hurling a pillow at him. "What the hell are you doing here, anyway?"

House just looked at her. "Why?"

Cuddy pointed at her bedroom door. "Get out."

"Make me."

"Get out, House. Now."

"No."

"What do you want me to do? Call the police?"

"Right."

"For the last time, House. Get. Out."

House stood, steady as a rock.

"Fine," Cuddy muttered, and attempted to shove him out the door. He dropped his cane, caught her wrists, and brought his head down to crush her lips with his, passionate, and demanding, in one smooth move. She melted against him. House's arms snaked around her, one hand finding its way to her lower back; the other, the nape of her neck, drawing her closer.

Cuddy pulled away from him. "Don't- do this… don't… not now…" she ran a hand through her hair, eyes flickering around the room and finally resting on her suitcase. "Don't."

Jaw set in anger, he took one long look at her, waiting. "Fine." Without another word, he turned on one heel and disappeared behind the door.

She sighed.

* * *

"Welcome Palm Springs, Dr. Cuddy," a ridiculously perky hotel clerk enthused, clicking away at her computer with a Barbie-doll smile.

Cuddy forced a smile. "Thanks."

"Here you go," the clerk continued, handing her a room card and a brochure advertising the sights and tourist attractions of Palm Springs. "We hope you have an enjoyable stay, and if you have any questions, concerns, or comments, please, don't be afraid to ask." Another sickeningly sweet smile.

Cuddy inwardly rolled her eyes, but said sweetly, "thank you, I will."

After receiving quick instructions to her room and the pool, Cuddy hauled her luggage to the elevator, then down to the end of the hallway on the third floor. Swiping the card, she shoved open the door and pulled her suitcases through it, letting the heavy wooden door click shut behind her. A low whistle escaped her lips as she surveyed the room. "Not bad," she muttered under her breath.

The room was truthfully quite lovely. The walls were painted a light olive; the floor covered in a thick, soft black carpet, and the generous double bed was adorned with at least five beige pillows and a blanket in various shades of green. Dark oak furniture completed the space, lending an air of sophistication to the room.

Cuddy paced over to the large window overlooking an enormous swimming pool, complete with lounge chairs, hot tubs, and much more. Without a second thought, she opened her suitcase and rummaged in it for her beach bag. Within fifteen minutes she was dressed in a simple black bikini, barefoot, a gauzy, multicoloured sarong wrapped around her hips, sunglasses atop her head, hair tied loosely into a knot at the nape of her neck, and her beach bag slung over her shoulder. In the bag was a romance novel, a bottle of water, a small towel, some change, her cell phone (turned off), and her key card.

She was just about to leave when a knock at the door startled her. Closing her suitcase and shoving it across the bed, she yelled out, "Yes?"

"Room service, ma'am," a vaguely familiar voice replied loudly. Cuddy frowned and strode to the door, opening it. "I'm sorry, I don't remember ordering room service…."

"I know you didn't," the voice said dryly, and Cuddy closed her eyes.

"House."


	10. X

_**A/N: If all 30 people that had this story on story alert reviewed, I would be ecstatic. Really. And PS: pretend Vogler still has some control over the hospital just for kicks. I needed him. **_

"How the hell'd you get here so fast? What are you doing here? Who's taking care of the hospital? How did you find out where I was?"

"I bribed the airport clerk lady person, I _told_ you, room service, Vogler, and I bribed the hotel clerk, too," House replied smugly, leaning on his cane.

"How- what- why- you-" Cuddy spluttered angrily.

"I… what? You're not as smart as I thought you were, _Doctor _Cuddy," House stepped closer and let the heavy wooden hotel door swing shut, "if you haven't figured out by now that I am following you across the country for a damn good reason."

Cuddy swallowed nervously at his closeness. He kept creeping forward and she kept backing up until he had her flat against the wall. "And what… reason is that?"

"Like I said, Cuddy… if you haven't figured out that I- damn it-" House exhaled forcefully and looked at the floor in frustration, "you're not making this easy are you? Fine. I love you, goddammit. God only knows I've tried to make it go away, but you just had to go and leave." Angrily, he spun around on his good leg and stared out the window.

Two full minutes passed in complete silence, and finally he chanced a glance over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't dead. Cuddy was still staring at him, blue eyes wide. "I don't- I can't-"

_House loves me? Oh god… Just when I thought…_

"I need to think." And without another word, she fled the room, not looking back.

After swimming at least five laps of the Olympic-sized swimming pool outside, Cuddy hauled herself out of the pool and collapsed in a lounging chair on her stomach, ready to tan. Feeling extremely tired from her laps, she soon felt herself, tense as she was, drifting into dreamland….

Only to be awakened just twenty minutes later by a blob of something quite cold on her back. She gasped and opened her eyes, twisting her neck to glance over her shoulder to see what the hell was on her back. "House, what are you doing?"

"A woman of your beauty and significance should really make use of this product, don't you think?" House continued rubbing the lotion all over her back with smooth hands, sending delicious shivers running up her spine.

Cuddy let herself be lulled by the motions of his hands and closed her eyes again. "House, if we… it won't be… wouldn't… last…" she finished quietly, helplessly, weakly.

"Ah, but you don't know that," he reprimanded in an admonishing tone. "Flip over. You don't want to toast." She complied, and he poured sunscreen on her stomach, continuing giving her the sensuous massage. "What you, Dr. Cuddy, do not know, is how wonderfully charming I can be." At this, Cuddy's eyes opened again to meet his eyes, which were drilling holes in her.

"Who are you, and what have you done with House?"

"I am House!" A petulant pout, and Cuddy felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

House pointed. "Aha. A smile. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your support. I have succeeded in making the lady smile."

Cuddy's stomach flopped.

_My god, he's completely changed. This is House we're talking about, here. What am I thinking? _

"You said you wished you weren't important. Why?" he questioned softly, abandoning his previous topic completely.

Cuddy felt her defenses wavering. "I don't want to be important," she murmured, breaking eye contact. How did he remember that? _Why _did he remember that?

"Why?" House's blue eyes pierced her own, and she was shocked at the unexpected _tenderness _she saw in them. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she lowered her eyes.

"I want to be normal," she finally blurted, and decided to hell with it, she was gonna have to continue after that, there was no way he would let her leave him hanging. To her surprise, House didn't comment. "I have almost no social life. I want to settle down with the guy of my dreams and buy a house and have kids. I want… I'm tired of running a hospital."

House simply looked at her. "And you don't just want to quit, I suppose," he said dryly.

Cuddy half-smiled and shook her head. "No."

"No?"

"No. Who else is brave enough to blackmail and threaten you into finishing your clinic hours?"

"Wilson?"

"He doesn't have the power."

"Oh." Then, after a pause, "do you have a point?"

"No, I guess not. Why does everything have to have a point?"

"I don't know." After a moment, House struggled to his feet and held out his hand for her to grasp. "Let's go do something that doesn't involve making points."

Cuddy hesitated only a moment, then smiled. "Okay."

_**A/N: Here we go. I think this will probably be the second last chapter, maybe third. It's time to end it, methinks. Comments are REALLY appreciated; I've been building it up for so long, I worked really hard to make it up to your expectations. Let me know, kay?**_


	11. XI

_**A/N: Okay, the timeline is screwed and it won't make sense at first, but pretend this chapter is right after Stacy left. Pretend she and House never slept together and that nothing romantic happened between them, but there was still some tension. Make sense? If not and this chapter blows, I'll rewrite it.**_

_**Wow, guys. Last chapter. It's been a LOT of fun. If it hadn't been for your fantastic reviews, this never would have gone on so long. **_

_**Much love to y'all,**_

_**Charlie**_

_**(P.S. I LOVE this chapter. It is far and away my favourite one.)**_

-

How the hell could she have actually thought it would last?

Lights dim. Soft, tortured jazz music crooning from the radio. A bottle of bourbon in her hand. Flames hissing, licking, sparking at her from the warm, cozy fireplace. Cashmere rubbing against her skin, the blanket draped over her feet as she curled up on the sofa; exhausted, sad, angry.

She should have seen it coming. Stacy and House were a disaster waiting to happen. Oh, he assured her nothing was left of them- after teasing her about being jealous, but she had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. She believed him. Still did.

Until the lawyer had left.

House brooded, sulked, and brooded some more, until she had yelled at him, he had yelled right back, and she had stormed out of his place to cool off, catching a cab home.

Which brought her right here, doing the same thing as he was.

Brooding.

But the pure gentleness of the aura of the room eventually lulled her to a fitful sleep, only to let her be harshly awakened by the sound of the telephone.

She grabbed for it, swiped at her eyes with her free hand, and mumbled a "hello."

-

Better salary. Better hours. Better city. Free moving expenses. On the surface, there wasn't a decent reason _not _to take the job.

But Oregon didn't have House.

Cuddy sat absently staring at nothing in particular, tapping her foot in a mindless rhythm against the wheels of her desk chair. "This is pathetic."

He needed an answer by tomorrow.

"_I realize I've given you virtually no notice, Dr. Cuddy, but we're short on staff, and you were highly recommended."_

She gave a bitter laugh. He had laid it on thick. Sincere, yeah, but…

Her mind drifted to the future. A nice house. Warm weather. The Cascade Mountains. All the benefits that had been described to her in detail.

_I'll get over House. It never would have worked out._

She picked up the phone.

-

She hadn't spoken to him for three days. Miraculously, they had not crossed paths at all since their fight.

_Maybe it's fate._

She snorted derisively. "Right."

"Flight 727, now boarding. Flight 727, now boarding." The oddly-sounding female voice echoed through various speakers around her. She stood up and headed toward the flight attendant standing near the gate for her flight. Slinging her carry-on bag over her shoulder, she approached the first person in line to stand behind him.

"Taking a trip?" The blonde flight attendant asked perkily.

Cuddy shook her head. "Moving. New job."

The flight attendant scrutinized the computer screen, then smiled. "Well, I hope you enjoy Oregon."

"She won't."

Cuddy's eyes slid shut. When she finally dared open them again, the flight attendant was staring at something behind her.

"I didn't want to follow you across the country _again_, so I figured, what the hell, why not just catch her at the airport? Do you know how much money I gave some ugly fat dude to find out where the hell you were? Lots. You owe me at least seven meals out, honey. He just wouldn't talk. Even when I told him how much I loved you and would do pretty much anything to get you back."

She turned and saw the half-grin on his face and started to cry.

"Even clinic duty."

He shrugged the slightest bit, leaned his cane against the a nearby chair, and opened his arms two inches. That was all it took for her to fly into his arms and have them encircle her tightly.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, and he dropped a kiss on her forehead, causing her to look up.

"Me too." He waited only two seconds before asking, "does this mean you're staying?"

Tears welled up in her eyes. "Yeah, I guess so." She stepped back and watched him smile at her. "What?"

He smirked. "Well, thank goodness. I thought for a minute that I was going to have to do this-" he reached into his pocket, pulled out a little black velvet box, and held it in his palm, flipping it open with one finger.

Cuddy's eyes widened. She choked back a sob.

"Hey Lisa… marry me? 'Cause, you know, I love you so much."

She cried. He drew her into his embrace again. When her tears stopped coming, she looked up at him with shining eyes. "Yeah. 'Cause, you know, I love you too."

A small crowd had gathered near the line-up, and every single person was clapping, including the flight attendant. "I guess this means you're not going to Oregon," she said, beaming.

"I'm not going to have a job." The thought suddenly came to her.

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her. "I'm sure I can find something to occupy your time," he whispered in her ear, mindful of their observers, and she blushed. He caught the ring on his thumb and flicked the box away, slipping the gold band decorated with diamonds and one sapphire on her ring finger. Then he slowly turned so the crowd could see them, ducked his head to steal a kiss, and grinned.

"Guess what? She's mine."

_**A/N: Oh, man. I had entirely too much fun writing that chapter. Now I'm really sad that it's ending. Maybe I'll write another House/Cuddy fic. I sort of have another one in mind… You interested? Ask me about it.**_


End file.
